


For one night only

by becka



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Big Weekend, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1686722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becka/pseuds/becka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>His phone’s just next to Annie’s decks when he gets back to the stage, and he’s got a text and a missed call from a blocked number. At the Hilton. Want you, the text says.</i>
</p>
<p>Nick and Harry the night before 1D's Big Weekend performance in Glasgow. Shamelessly self-indulgent smut for a Sunday afternoon.</p>
<p>Standard disclaimer: NOT REAL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For one night only

Nick arrives back on stage shoeless and laughing breathlessly into Jen Long’s hair, drunk enough that the world is wobbling slightly, but in the best way. He feels as though he’s back at uni, young and carefree and open to endless possibilities. It’s such a bloody good night, even though walking around Glasgow at two in the morning with no shoes on will be disgusting and he’ll probably contract some awful disease.

His phone’s just next to Annie’s decks because he wasn’t quite enough of an idiot to leave that in his pocket, at least, and when he picks it up, he’s got a text and a missed call from a blocked number. _At the Hilton. Want you_ , the text says. Nick doesn’t even try to be discreet then, stumbling out of the club in a pair of emergency flip-flops that probably came out of lost property, saying he has an important appointment, which sounds fucking ludicrous at 2am, but everyone else at Annie’s gig is probably as pissed as he is.

He hails a cab and he hates the way he has to clench his toes around the flip-flops to keep them on, feels sure he’s going to lose a second pair of shoes before the end of the night. On the way to the hotel he also realises he has no bloody clue how he’s going to get to Harry’s room, or where it is. Strictly speaking, he hasn’t even said he’s coming. He sends Harry a text mauled by autocorrect, then another, better-spelt one, and by the time he gets to the Hilton, there’s a security guard he recognizes standing by the lifts from the lobby. There was a little clump of girls milling about outside as well, and Nick is grateful none of them have blagged their way in yet. If they only see him in the lobby, it just looks like the BBC has given him well posh accommodation in Glasgow. But if they see him with 1D’s security, well… Nick hates trying to think things like this through when he’s drunk.

“Hiya,” he says to the man, whose name is lost in the pickled recesses of Nick’s brain at the minute.

“Evening, Grimmy,” the man replies, which makes Nick feel even worse for not remembering. He fidgets in the lift on the way to the top floor, drunkenness tempered by adrenaline, all of it making his small talk more inane than usual.

When they get there, the man knocks on a door, then lets Nick in without another word, the closing door leaving him in darkness. Nick suddenly wonders if he’s taken too long to come, if Harry’s fallen asleep and he should just go. But then Harry says, “Nick?” low and breathy from the bed, and Nick knows so much from the sound of his voice, memories flooding back.

He peers into the darkness, makes out the blobby shape of Harry leaning up in bed, a sheet flung across his legs in an imitation of modesty. Nick steps out of his disgusting flip-flops and immediately starts on his flies. “Hello, love,” he says, and the shape of Harry lies back and reaches for him, both hands splayed out and grasping. 

Nick shucks off the rest of his clothes and crawls up over him, the sheet separating him from some of the best bits of Harry’s body, but leaving Nick the slick softness of his mouth, handfuls of hair to clutch as he drags Harry into a deep kiss. Harry still smells slightly of airplane, but his mouth is minty with toothpaste, and he kisses greedily.

Nick tugs at the sheet, trying to get a hand on Harry’s cock which is a persistent weight against his hip. “Did you start without me, pet?” Nick asks.

Harry squirms, angling into Nick’s hand, letting Nick stroke up the length of his dick. “Thought maybe you’d want to be quick,” Harry says.

“I don’t,” says Nick. “I want all night.” It’s been months, and Nick has thought about this so often, more than he would ever admit. Getting off with your friends is different when the friends aren’t Harry Styles.

“Me too,” says Harry.

Nick traces his fingertips over the tightened sac of Harry’s balls, smoothes the skin there with his thumb and sinks his fingers into the cleft of Harry’s arse. He finds Harry slick and open already, wet enough for two of Nick’s fingers. Harry makes soft little noises, sharp gasps against Nick’s lips, his mouth wide open like he’s forgotten how to close it. “Is this just for me?” Nick asks just to hear the answer.

“Wanted you so much,” Harry replies, grinding down onto the hand fucking him, his dick bumping against Nick’s belly. “Wanted to be ready.”

And he is, stretched out and slick and trembling around Nick’s fingers. Nick wants to make him come like this and then start all over, but he’s so hard he may lose it on Harry’s squirming, and he’s too selfish not to want to do it in Harry’s arse instead. He circles a third finger around Harry’s hole, presses it slowly into him, Harry’s body clinging hotly, Nick’s knuckles knocking against his tender rim as he works his way inside. Harry gives a sudden, desperate groan, and his dick smears wet on Nick’s belly. “Stop,” he whispers. “Wait,” so obvious that he needs the same thing Nick does.

“Condom?” asks Nick, and he can see Harry biting his lip as he fumbles sideways on the bed, grasping empty handfuls of sheet.

“It was here,” he says. “It was.” He rocks down on Nick’s fingers, groaning again as they fuck deep into him. “You could not. Just this one time.”

Nick shakes his head. He doesn’t do that, never has. It wouldn’t be fair. He’s been with other people, and probably Harry has too. “Turn on the light if you need.” Harry reaches for the switch on the lamp, and Nick can feel every one of Harry’s movements in this weird, intimate way with his fingers tucked into Harry’s arse.

It’s blindingly bright for a moment, and then there’s Harry, hair splayed on the pillow like a princess, cheeks pink. He looks up from under his eyelashes, and it’s nearly painful how gorgeous he is, how much Nick feels just looking at him. The condom is about an inch to the right of Harry’s outflung hand, but they leave it for a minute and just drink each other in, meeting each other’s eyes in a sheepish smile. “I like your laurels,” Nick says, running his free hand over Harry’s hip. “Would a flower crown have been too much?”

“I reckoned I couldn’t pull off a weeping nipple like yours.”

“You have too many nipples already.” Nick leans down to bite one, tugging at the tender little point of it, making Harry gasp and tighten on his fingers.

“Can we leave the light on?” Harry asks, stroking Nick’s hair as Nick looks up. “I like seeing you.”

Nick thinks about his crow’s feet and the dark circles under his eyes and the paunchy little overhang of his chin, but Harry looking at him means he also gets to look at Harry, and that’s worth it.

He rolls the condom on and settles Harry’s legs around his hips, stroking up the length of his thighs, spreading him open to line up against his hole. He rubs the head of his cock through the slick of lube around it, presses in slowly and carefully, probably more carefully than he needs to. For a moment he watches himself sink in past the swollen rim of Harry’s hole, and then he shifts back to watching Harry’s face, the dark pink of his open mouth and the tightening of his eyebrows. There’s nothing better than this, Nick pressing forward and Harry pressing back until they meet in the middle, their bodies sealing together.

Harry’s legs slide around Nick’s waist as Nick starts to fuck into him, and the rhythm they find together is slow and easy, drawing it out, making it last a little longer. Nick isn’t ready for his orgasm when it hits him, the slow build driving him to a single frantic moment, Harry moaning steadily under him, stealing kisses as his thighs tighten on Nick’s waist. He gets a hand on Harry’s dick the moment before he comes, and Harry cries out and bucks his hips up, clenching down on Nick’s spurting cock, working himself to an orgasm of his own.

Nick has to pull out before they are glued together permanently by spunk, and it’s devastating, that loss of contact, even though his dick is wet and softening. Harry immediately reaches down between his legs, starts rubbing at his hole again, savouring where he must be sore.

When Nick comes back from the bathroom with a flannel, Harry is in a leggy sprawl in the centre of the bed, utterly contented grin on his face. “Were you out before this?” Harry asks sleepily.

“Annie was DJing,” Nick tells him, dropping the flannel on his belly. “I crowdsurfed.”

“You didn’t.” Nick will hate cuddling again in about five minutes when Harry starts sweating, but for now he can’t resist Harry’s outstretched arms. “What was it like?”

“Sick, as the kids say. Lost me shoes though. No one told me you’re supposed to take them off.”

“Were they nice ones?”

“Nah. Just Converse. I’ve got plenty more. Or I can steal some off this popstar I know.”

“Your feet are bigger than mine.”

“Bit sad about my dick then.” There were moments, when Harry was eighteen and seemed to be constantly naked in Nick’s flat, when Nick felt genuinely inadequate. But he’s nearly past it now.

“It’s perfect,” says Harry, curling a hand around Nick’s hip, fingertips twirling into the damp curls at the base of Nick’s dick. “I like it a lot.” He pauses, kisses Nick’s collarbone. “I like you a lot.”

Nick doesn’t look at him, nuzzles into his hair instead. “I like you a lot too, Styles.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://realmenwearpuppypants.tumblr.com/). <3


End file.
